You are currently viewing our boards as a guest which gives you limited access to view most discussions and access our other features. By joining our free community you will automatically be added to our player registry (unless you opt not to) and will be able to privately find and communicate with other players in your area. You will also be able to post and reply to topics, vote in polls, and many other special features. Registration is fast, simple and absolutely free so please, join our community today!

If you have any problems with the registration process or your account login, please contact us.

Are you interested in starting a play-by-post game here at Pen & Paper Games? Find out how to setup your own PBP forum.

In shadows of stone (development thread)

He was very pleased at this current turn of events, far too long had he been disregarded and overruled at the council of thanes. They whispered and conspired against him. They feared his clan and their might. Long had he awaited the time when the tables would turn and he might wield the power he deserved. He just needed a sign and it had come from the most unlikely of places, from amongst the refugees of Adbar, He would never admit to the old king's request for their aid, they had never needed them. What they needed was a king that knew how to wield power and rain terror upon their enemies. Had their ever been a king such as that, he could have respected him. There had never been one.

He moved along the darkened halls in thought, his mind going over every detail, every word. That fat Adbarren usurper would never acquiesce to this arrangement. Balabault had said as much, this was a show of power and nothing more. What they needed now was proof of the King's disregard of the Thane's dictum.

A thin dwarf in dark oiled leathers stepped up beside him, almost gliding out of the shadows of a nook. "What are your wishes my Thane?"

"Watch them, I wish to know any comings and goings of the dissenters. Abbathor's greed is upon them and clouds their eyes. We will do what is needed to protect the stead. Send out whispers that the dark is looking," in a low and whispered voice. "Go now and spread the word, let it be known that any have my protection should they come forth. Do not dawdle or mince my words again wretch. I have no patience for any that do not stand with me on this. Now go..." as the thin dwarf scurried off dawn a darkened hallway in haste.

Now it was set in motion, now he might finally cast out these interlopers and assume his rightly place as their Grand Thane. He would yield the crown, he would protect them in their time of need. He would guide them in the dark.

In the dark and silence, the shadows and echoes, Farerl Jundath stood tall.

Nalgur had the utmost respect for his thane, he did not fully understand the situation occurring though. He did know that the Thanes had met and that he was to spread the word throughout the clan and through their political connections that the Dark wanted information and was willing to pay well. Favors cost heavy, especially with these centuries of isolation. Debts were far more useful then gold or gems. The dark rarely offered debts.

He traversed the upper city and started downwards toward his clans residence in the stead. He would need to exercise caution. This was acting against the High Thane and could be viewed in many different ways. He knew who he sought out and who could best spread this. He crisscrossed paths, delving deeper into the clans holdings. He disliked seeking out Kilgar. He was unpleasant and thought his Thane and Clan would be better off had he been found with an axe in him. His Thane disagreed and was very clear he was to be protected. He was a blood relative of the Dark, now his power and influence could be felt more and more. Slowly he entered the low house and was through the hidden doors in no time. The place was cold and he felt alone. A low burning forge sat at the end of the chamber and soot covered axes and armor adorned the bare smoke stained walls.

"Dark Crafstmen, I have come with whispers from the Dark," he whispered hoping he was heard and could soon be away from this place. From the shadows stepped a bald dwarf covered in soot, his hands covered in black from working the forge. Upon his workman's belt he wore two hand axes that were encrusted brown with what he could only guess was blood. His eyes were sharp and shrewd penetrating and scrutinizing him as if he were yet another item he was forging.

"The forge is hot, the anvil is ready. Now is the time to see who endures the blows of the hammer," with an ominous and foreboding tone. There they spoke in the darkness of what the Dark sought.

A dark and filthy dwarven girl, covered in grime and filth approached the lankier and older boy. They were near the Broken Barrel, in one of the many tunnels the more common folk tread. The hall had all the signs of a beer hall, dark stains and a faint smell of vomit.

"Noro, I has word fer the Dark..." she whispers, her grubby hands twisting in anxiety. She disliked dealing with Noro. He had greedy eyes and she never trusted a Jundeth. Her mother had died long ago and her father had fallen to drinking, she looked after him. He had said far too many things to the wrong folks and had gotten reduced to nothing in their clan. They survived in abandoned areas of their clanstead and ate when they could. She could not lay claim to anything, she had to forge her own path in this world.

"Does ya Dwip? I ain't hurd nuthin from ya in years werth spit!" with a dismissive shake of the hand as if he were shooing off an annoying insect.

"I knows about a Chanter, anna skinner..." she offered, hoping to dangle enough to pique his interest.

"Ain't no way that girl be runnin round the stead with no skinner," as if he personally knew this insanity of that relationship.

"Twern't just a skinner, seems the young priest o' Vergadain ain't been seen in days eether. I 'eard where theys a going. It'll cost ya though. Food an drink fer me father fer a month and new boots. I ..." as one of the bar maidens emerged from a tunnel. "You kids better be runnin! Know ya ain't s'pposed to be round ere!" as she starts toward them.

Noro hits the tunnel in a run, ducking this way and that to avoid getting caught again. It was only minutes later that he realizes he lost Dwip and the rest of her story. He grunts in rage and slams his fist into the tunnel wall. Now he needed to find that filthy little girl...